


Tea and Scones

by Avelera



Series: Chub!Thorin [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shire, Belly Kink, Body Worship, Chubby Thorin, Domestic, Explicit Sexual Content, Feeding Kink, Fluff, M/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4605294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avelera/pseuds/Avelera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin has gained weight since coming to live in the Shire, and Bilbo cannot get enough of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea and Scones

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I write chubby Thorin kink fics. This one is in response to several prompters, including AdventurousKitten and morelikeshingekigofuckyourself on Tumblr.
> 
> For those unfamiliar, this story follows from the premise that Thorin and Bilbo retire to the Shire at some point, where the average of seven meals a day for hobbits has a rather dramatic impact on the slower metabolism of dwarves. Thorin gains quite a few pounds, and the new weight *does things* to the Bilbo's hobbit hindbrain and the associated belly kink that all hobbits seem quite fond of, driving him absolutely even more wild for his dwarven husband. 
> 
> Be aware, this is pure belly-kink smut, if that's not your thing, I'd suggest looking elsewhere. Otherwise, please enjoy!

Thorin glared over his stomach as if it had personally offended him, while the shirt Bilbo had just pulled off of him lay discarded beside the chair. Scones, jam, and a dropped plate had led to a bit of scuffling as Bilbo insisted he could get the stain out if Thorin would just give the shirt to him  _now_ , and Thorin nearly tearing the shirt in his attempt to keep it on. Thorin knew his form was running to fat since coming to live in the Shire, but it didn’t mean he liked to be  _reminded_  of it.

“Of all the nonsense,” Bilbo huffed, snatching up the shirt and immediately dropping it into the sink to wash, driving the pump down once to leave it soaking in cold water.

When he turned back, Thorin was already on his feet, heading towards the door that led to their bedroom, but Bilbo was quicker. He caught Thorin around the middle (not as easy a task as it once was, he certainly had to stretch his arms out further and his hands barely met in the middle) making to pull him back. Yet both knew that Bilbo never had, and never would, be able to physically stop Thorin from going anywhere he wanted to go. Yet they equally both knew that Thorin was utterly helpless against his husband’s affections, and so the minute Bilbo hugged him, he stopped in the doorway, and sighed.

“You know there are plenty more scones, there’s no need to take off after spilling one,” Bilbo muttered against Thorin’s (much broader) back. There was a suspicious amount of movement there, perhaps indicating that Bilbo was lovingly rubbing hairless cheeks against Thorin’s now exposed body.

“I was only hoping to be  _dressed_  this time,” Thorin retorted. “I am beginning to suspect these little accidents are not anything of the sort.”

“Pish, just because I’ve been a little clumsy with the jam lately, doesn’t mean…”

“Three times this week?” Thorin countered. “If you would like me to come unclothed to the dinner table, you need only ask.”

“Please come unclothed to the dinner table,” Bilbo said immediately, and Thorin could  _feel_  the wicked grin he pressed against his skin.

“…And I need only refuse. And here I had been told hobbits were the ones obsessed with propriety,” Thorin said, and began to walk towards the bedroom again.

“We are entirely alone, you know. That’s the point of building a smial into a hill,” Bilbo said, refusing to release Thorin as he continued to walk, and tough hobbit feet took no issue at all with being dragged across the floor as Thorin hauled his passenger with him into the bedroom.

“Am I allowed to dress, at least?” Thorin said, stopping at the closet. His wardrobe had certainly expanded, in many ways, in the recent months but there wasn’t a single shirt large enough for two.

“It seems an awful waste, now that we made it  _all_  the way here,” Bilbo said, his hands falling lower, finding Thorin’s belt and fussing with the buckle. “I think I saw some jam splash onto your knee, let me take care of that.”

Thorin gave an exasperated sigh, and turned before Bilbo could leave him entirely bereft of clothing and dignity. As he did so he caught Bilbo’s wrists, pulling them up and bending down so they were face to face with Bilbo’s hands stretched over his head. “ _You_  have been entirely insatiable lately. I’m fairly certain if I eat another of your scones you will never let me leave the house.”

“Yes, but they are very good scones, aren’t they?” Bilbo said, then leaned in so their noses brushed and Thorin had a full view of his mischievous expression, one of his “Tookish” moods, as Bilbo liked to call it.

“Indeed. Though I wonder whatever happened to the hobbit who complained so of dwarves plundering his pantry?”

“He’s  _happy_ ,” Bilbo said, planting a peck on Thorin’s lips which even in this state Thorin was not one to refuse. “Terribly scandalous and unrespectable, I know, but it is a sacrifice I have come to terms with. May I take your clothes off now?”

“ _If_  I let you do so,” Thorin said, pulling Bilbo another inch up by his wrists and dropping him— just a little reminder of where they stood, even if he was fairly certain Bilbo need only crook his finger to get him to submit to all sorts of hedonistic hobbit indignities— “ _then_  may I finish my meal?”

“I will feed it to you myself,” Bilbo assured. “With my own fingers, and extra clotted cream if you so desire.”

“And enjoy every second of the display, I’m sure,” Thorin said. “I  _know_  you.”

“So long as it makes both of us happy…” Bilbo began, and squawked as Thorin picked him up as if he weighed nothing and deposited him on the bed. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” Bilbo added, sitting upright from where he had been dropped, and already leaning forward to finish his work on Thorin’s belt, at which Thorin rolled his eyes. “You’re just as strong as you were when we were all trying to protect our sadly precarious lives on the road. Maybe stronger. There’s no need to be all in a huff just because you’re handsomer as well.”

“ _And_  growing out of two wardrobes, with a certain burglar’s help,” Thorin said. “Which is far more easily replaced than armor, which I have also outgrown thanks to you.”

“Like you would ever need armor in the Shire,” Bilbo scoffed, and it was his turn to roll his eyes, fleeting as the look was replaced with triumphant as Thorin’s belt came undone with a _click_. Bilbo’s hand was already making its own spirited attempt at burglary, stealing down the front of Thorin’s trousers and rubbing the flat of his palm against his already stirring erection. All right, perhaps he was not entirely immune to his hobbit husband’s interest.

“You say that now, but in the future— _nnnhggh_ ,” Thorin said eloquently, biting into his lip as Bilbo snaked around his small-clothes and began to stroke.

“What was that?” Bilbo said innocently. Thorin’s breath shuddered, then he growled at the back of his throat.

Pinning Bilbo to the bed was achieved in a single easy step and Thorin arched over him, trapping Bilbo in the circle of his arms and the veil of his hair. His belly, the source of Bilbo’s endless fascination these days, took up the space between them and Bilbo’s hands found it immediately, massaging and groping as Thorin plundered Bilbo’s mouth with kisses.

Bilbo gave a deep moan at the back of his throat, grinding his cock up against Thorin’s belly even as his hands traveled ceaselessly, and even Thorin’s amusement with the predictable turn of events was not enough to prevent the bolt of lust through his veins at the sound.

“Let me, let me,” Bilbo gasped into his mouth, grabbing Thorin by the hips and urging him onto his back, a futile move if Thorin did not acquiesce. At times he would refuse, if only to frustrate Bilbo, trapping him to the bed and ravishing his husband as Bilbo enjoyed—as Thorin had learned from Bilbo’s not altogether secret fantasies, gleaned from various novels well hidden among the bookshelves and under the bed, which contained a curious number of hobbit ravishments by dwarves. Bilbo was an odd hobbit, something Thorin had come to learn, but just how odd was an ongoing source of amusement and delight. His husband had an incredibly thorough, if occasionally entirely unrealistic imagination.

This time though Thorin did acquiesce, brushing his hair back as he turned onto his back, and he barely had time to bring his feet (still in socks) onto the bed before Bilbo was upon him, grinding them together, kissing and biting Thorin’s lips as his hands wandered elsewhere. At this point, all amusement and indeed rational thinking fled. Thorin may view Bilbo’s Tookish moments with some fond exasperation, but that was little defense once Bilbo got his stride, and every pound Thorin had put on seemed to have only driven his hobbit to greater heights of need.

His first moan escaped despite himself as Bilbo massaged his belly, squeezing and pinching, bending forward to lave Thorin’s nipples with his tongue so that any thought of dignity, or thought at all, fled and Thorin was whimpering at the back of his throat and thrusting helplessly against Bilbo, seeking some relief for his now aching cock. Even with the trousers loosened it was too much, and in the ensuing tumble both of them broke away only long enough to leave their remaining clothes (the ones Bilbo had tried so hard to divest him of) littered around the bed. The flurry also allowed them to reposition lengthwise on the bed, so that when Thorin settled back again his ankles were no longer trailing over the side and Bilbo had returned with renewed fervor to his ministrations, as if the short delay had further incensed him.

“Beautiful, so beautiful,” Bilbo was whispering against his skin as he worshipped, pressing hot kisses down Thorin’s chest to his belly, licking briefly over his cock, just enough to tease, before ducking lower to grope at Thorin’s fattened thighs and suck harder kisses there, hard enough to leave marks while Thorin gasped and trembled above him, harsh groans turning to mewls he tried without success to swallow back.

On the average, such moods left Bilbo panting and desperate to take Thorin, first sucking him off before spending as long as he pleased working Thorin open until he was gasping and biting at the pillow to hold back his cries. But this time Bilbo seemed to have other plans and was already quite ready to be taken by Thorin.

“Prepared, are we?” Thorin said, though his voice was thick and slurred with desire as Bilbo removed the plug and used the bedside oil slick himself, riding his own fingers just long enough to send a shudder of need through Thorin’s loins.

“Why else do you think I was in such a hurry?” Bilbo said, breathless from the work but his eyes never leaving Thorin’s body.

Before Thorin could retort that he found nothing particularly unusual about Bilbo’s appetites, a quip that these days would leave him open for all sorts of retorts as he melded in more than one way into the hobbit lifestyle, Bilbo climbed on top of him and took Thorin’s cock in hand. The wrecked, broken moan that followed as Bilbo put the tip to his entrance left no room for further banter. Or to breathe, even as Bilbo took him inch by inch so that Thorin’s legs shook and his hands immediately found Bilbo’s hips.

His moans were echoed by Bilbo as he found his rhythm, sliding up and down, the clench and heat too much to bear as the hobbits hands went back to his worship, massaging Thorin’s chest, licking his fingers first to pinch the nipples and rolling his hips as he gripped Thorin’s stomach, his eyes never leaving it as it bounced and shook with every thrust. Bilbo’s face was flushed, his eyes shining and lips parted as he watched, until his eyes fluttered and rolled back.

Meanwhile, Thorin could only hold on. His cock was engulfed in that perfect tight heat, pleasure welling, curling his toes and arching his back as Bilbo rode faster, harder, and Thorin was gripping his hips desperately, his climax just out of reach–

Until Bilbo kissed him. He bent forward, barely reaching over the globe of Thorin’s stomach to strain for his lips, catching them and crying out into Thorin’s mouth as he clenched around his cock, his smaller body shuddered in climax. It was too much, he could not, it was…

Thorin came hard with harsh, desperate cry, his arms encircling Bilbo clutching him close as he rode out wave after wave. 

He was left wrung out and shivering in the aftershocks, sweat cooling on his body and Bilbo giving pleased murmurs against his chest, melting into the softness. Thorin’s stomach rose and fell as he panted, as he looked down at Bilbo’s curls and saw his husband nuzzling close, hands stroking idly up and down Thorin’s flank.

“Now may we return to tea?” Thorin murmured, smirking to himself as Bilbo gave an exasperated huff.

“If you really wish to,” Bilbo said, but made no effort to move whatsoever.

And Thorin found that he really didn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please feel free to check me out on Tumblr, where I am also "Avelera." 
> 
> If you enjoyed, I'd love to hear from you. Smut doesn't often get as much verbal feedback, since people get understandbly rather bashful, but I'd still love to hear from you!


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